


SoulMates

by randomfills (spnfanatic)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dean Winchester in Denial, Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, No Hunting, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Dean Winchester, Romance, Slow Burn, Soulmates, Supportive Sam Winchester, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:08:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24398512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnfanatic/pseuds/randomfills
Summary: They say that there’s a soul-mate out there for everyone. Once you findtheone, you’ll go on and live this happy, cherry pie life with a house and white picket fence and 2.5 kids and a dog named Rocket. If you’re some gullible loser who believes in this fairytale shit. Which Dean Winchester is absolutely not. If only this new kinky son of a bitch who moved in next door who likes to throw parties every week would fucking get the memo. And please give Dean back his heart. Like seriously. Eventual Destiel, Sam/Eileen.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Implied Castiel/Others - Relationship, Implied Dean/Others - Relationship, past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester - Relationship
Kudos: 8





	SoulMates

**Author's Note:**

> I've gone back to reading Destiel again and it's put me in the mood to write Destiel stories. Sorry, not sorry.

“You know you’re going to have to get out there and live your life again,” Sam says from the couch. He’s got his legs crossed and the coffee Dean’s poured for him this morning is sitting on the table, barely touched. He isn’t looking at Dean right now but Dean knows the words are directed at him, seeing as they’re the only two in the house. 

Dean figures if he ignores him long enough, Sam will eventually just give up and leave. Of course he doesn’t. Stubborness is a trait that seems to have been passed down to all Winchesters. Dean’s in the kitchen still, debating on taking care of the dishes. It’s nearly noon, but there’s only two plates and a cup inside the sink. It’d take less than a minute to rinse them and put them in the dishwasher. 

“You know, ignoring me isn’t going to get rid of your problem,” Sam says. He sounds louder, closer now.

Annoyed, Dean looks up to see Sam staring at him from only a few feet away. His arms are crossed. Kid probably thinks he looks menacing. Dean just sighs. “Dude, I don’t have a problem.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah, you kind of do.”

“Oh, yeah? What problem do you _think_ I have then?” 

“Uh, one, I don’t _think_ you have a problem, Dean, I _know_. And the problem that I _know_ you have is that you don’t have a fucking life.” Sam’s staring at him all the while, waiting for Dean to challenge him on his stupid unfounded claim.

Dean glares at him. “I do have a life.” He can’t help the annoyance that finds its way into his voice, because this _is_ annoying. “I work, I eat, I sleep. Oh and I piss and I shit too.” He’s being kind of an ass now as he lists off the basic human functions but it’s not his fault Sam likes to stop by once every couple months and have this same stupid conversation. Dean is so over this.

“Okay, shut up, Dean. That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Sam says, throwing his hands up in frustration and glaring back. “I just mean you have, like, no social life. That’s your problem.”

“How is _that_ a problem?” He pauses for a moment, then, “And I do have a social life. I hang out with you and Eileen-” _When you guys remember to invite me and I don’t have an excuse to decline._ “And mom and dad for holidays.” _I also go out and get laid every Friday. That counts as a social life, right_?

It’s such a stupid, pointless argument and Dean isn’t sure why he’s still entertaining this. Well. He does know why. Sort of. Sam’s his brother and maybe he can be an ass when he has a point he thinks he needs to make, but his heart is in the right place. He’s trying to help Dean, and well, Dean’s always been a sucker for his brother. He doesn’t have the heart to kick his brother out anyways.

Sam seems to lose some of the anger at Dean’s admission. He sighs and says, “That’s not enough, and you know it. The last time Eileen and I invited you back to our place was for Thanksgiving. Dean, that was, like, six months ago. And you don’t always take us up on our offer.” He pauses and pinches his nose. He’s clearly not happy. Fine by Dean. Dean isn’t either. Not by a long shot. He looks back at Dean with concern in his hazel eyes. And dammit. Dean has to look away. He hates it when Sam looks at him like that. “I’m just, _we’re_ just, worried. Since, Lisa…”

And fuck no. Dean jumps to action at that. He looks back at Sam with narrowed eyes, and snaps, “We’re not talking about her.”

Sam opens his mouth to protest but Dean’s already shaking his head. Nope. Fuck that shit. Looks like little bro did overstay his welcome this time. “I said _no_. Look, I appreciate this heart to heart, really, I do, Sammy. But I think you’ve got a bus to catch and you wouldn’t want to be late or anything.” 

Sam still looks like he wants to say more and Dean dares him with his eyes. He lets his brother think over his choice words in his head for a few minutes, before Sam finally decides to concede. He uncrosses his arms and lets them hang awkwardly. Even though he’s twenty six now, he doesn’t look it. His hair is shaggy and getting longer by the day. Dean has half a mind to grab him and sit him on a chair and cut his hair. He only just barely resists the urge because last time he tried to do that, when Sam was sixteen, he nearly got punched just for asking. The kid likes looking like a girl. Not Dean’s problem anymore.

“Right. I’ll go pack my stuff,” Sam says, somewhat dejectedly. Dean raises an eyebrow as he watches Sam leave in a huff to grab his bag from the guest room. He’s back, packed up, and waiting for Dean in less than five minutes.

They walk by the living room and Dean glances at the coffee, then back at Sam. “You want your coffee still? I can make an exception just this once for you to drink in baby.”

Sam rolls an eye at Dean’s choice words. Dean isn’t offended in the slightest though. “Yeah, sure.” He goes to grab the cup and they head out.

Dean thinks the drive to the bus stop is going to be quiet. No such luck with Sam riding shotgun, even with music on for background noise. Honestly he isn’t sure why he’s surprised. This is Sammy.

“You know I’d apologize but I’ve got nothing to apologize for,” Sam says. “I’m not going to apologize for worrying about you. It’s stupid.”

Dean tries to ignore him. He goes to turn the volume higher, but Sam stops him. Fucking hell. He grits his teeth when Sam just turns the music off. He’s lucky he has to focus on driving. 

“Just hear me out, Dean,” Sam continues, oblivious to Dean seething quietly beside him (or he is aware and doesn’t fucking care). “I won’t bring her up. Promise. But you need to start going out more. Interact with people, socialize. It’s not exactly healthy for you to be a shut-in.”

“I’m not a shut-in, Sam,” Dean snaps. He grips the steering wheel tightly. There’s a red light coming up and shit. Dean breaks to a stop. Perfect. Stuck in traffic with his chick flick moment little brother. “I told you I have a life.”

“Yeah, you told me. You work and sleep and eat,” Sam says sarcastically. “Oh and you piss and shit. Doesn’t sound like much of a life to me.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s still a life,” Dean says. “It’s my life.” Dean makes sure to emphasize the ‘my’ in the sentence. 

Sam doesn’t say anything to do that. They fall back into silence. The light thankfully turns green and Dean wonders vaguely, if the universe finally decides to take pity on him. This one time.

It takes another fifteen minutes for them to pull into the bus station parking lot. Dean manages to get a spot nearby so that Sam doesn’t have to walk as far. He hears Sam unbuckle the seat-belt and turns to look at his brother. Sam for all his height and bulk, still looks like the unsure preteen Dean helped raise all his life. 

He sighs and says, “Come here, Sammy.” Before either of them realizes what he’s doing, he’s pulling Sam into an awkward hug. It’s hard to stay mad at Sam for long. They’re brothers, and Sam’s got a heart of gold. Dean knows Sam worries, and he’s touched by his concern. In a way, not only is Sam his brother, but he’s also his best friend. “Look, man, I get it. You’re worried about me, and you have a right to be. I...uh, haven’t been in a good place since, you know. Since Lisa.” It still stings to say her name. Even after four years. But he sucks it up anyways and leans back and gives Sam a little grin. “I’m gonna be okay though.”

Sam is still looking a little unsure, but after that little confession, his shoulders are less tense. “You know I’m not trying to be a pestering asshole here, right?” His tone shifts to one of pleading and Dean looks at him in surprise.

“Yeah, I know that, Sammy.”

“Good. Good, because if it comes out that way, just, I don’t know, knock some sense into me or something.” Sam’s babbling now and it’s kind of cute in that annoying little brother way and Dean almost laughs.

“Chill, doofus. You’re cool,” Dean tells him.

Sam grins a little and his eyes are wide and bright and suddenly he looks a decade younger. “I’ve got a confession to make, Dean.”

“Oh yeah?” Dean asks, leaning back to squint at him. He wonders how he’s missed how happy, _truly_ happy, Sam looks. “This isn’t a love confession or something, is it? Because, little brother, hate to burst your bubble, but I’m pretty sure that’d be considered incest and I hear it’s heavily frowned upon and illegal in most parts of the world.”

Sam rolls his eyes and smacks Dean’s arm playfully. He’s still smiling though. “Dude, shut up. It’s not that.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “Dean, it’s Eileen. I think, uh, she’s it. Like my other half.”

Dean blinks. “What?”

“Like, you know, my _soul-mate_ ,” Sam says.

Yeah. So he did hear that right. Dean is still staring at Sam like he’s grown another head. And he might as well have. Because there’s no way Sam still believes in that shit. 

He opens his mouth to say something. Maybe like, ‘Are you sure?’ or ‘Did you hit your head or something, Sammy?’ or ‘You know there’s no such thing, right?’ But none of the words come out. They’re like stuck in his throat or something. He closes his mouth once he realizes how stupid he probably looks gaping at Sam.

“Dude, say something,” Sam murmurs after a full minute of silence.

Dean’s still reeling from the shock of the confession. “How can you be so sure, Sammy?” he blurts out without thinking.

Sam rubs the back of his neck as he thinks. He shrugs finally and says, “I can’t really explain it. I just do.”

And there it is. No one seems able to explain it. There isn't any actual, physical evidence of soul-mates. It’s just made up shit. Fairytale crap that people tell kids to make love more interesting. They say that there’s a soul-mate out there for everyone. Once you find the one, you’ll go on and live this happy, cherry pie life with a house and white picket fence and two point five kids and a dog named Rocket or whatever shitty name people give dogs. Only gullible people or kids fall for shit like this. Or apparently Sam Winchester. Fuck.

“Dude, she’s a sweet girl, Sam. Not dissing your girlfriend or nothing. I like her plenty but you can’t know she’s your soulmate,” Dean finally says, trying to pick the right words. He doesn’t want to hurt Sam’s feelings. They’re fucking delicate.

Sam’s mouth drops open and he looks ready to argue. But Dean must look pitiful or something because then Sam clamps his mouth shut and narrows his eyes and seems to think over what to say for another moment. He finally says, “You know what? I know you don’t believe in this whole soulmate thing, but I’m going to prove to you it’s the real deal, Dean.”

Dean can’t help but be somewhat curious on what Sam’s suddenly cooking up. “Oh yeah? How are you going to do that? Link me articles that don’t exist?”

Sam’s already shaking his head. “There isn’t any physical evidence. Not that anyone can see at least. It’s all in here,” he places a hand on his chest, just over his heart. Dean wants to roll his eyes. “Look, I’ll come by your house next week. How’s Friday sound?”

Dean shakes his head almost immediately, “I’m booked.”

“Really? What are you doing besides working? I know you don’t have any friends,” Sam says with a raised eyebrow, looking a little too smug for his own good. Bastard.

Dean wants to say, ‘That’s my one night to hit up the bar and bring someone home to fuck.’ He doesn’t though. Sam isn’t privy to his sex life. Instead he just purses his lips and says nothing.

“That’s what I thought. I’ll come by your place by three. Eileen’s going to be out of town next weekend for her job anyway. We can hit up a bar and have a few drinks that night, catch up and chat some people up. We haven’t hung out like that since I was twenty one, right? It’ll be fun, Dean.”

Dean just stares at his brother. “Wait, let me get this straight. You want to, what, be my wingman or something?”

Sam just shrugs. “Call it whatever you want. It’ll get you out of the house for once, and who knows? Maybe you’ll find your soul-mate there. It’s like killing two birds with one stone.”

Dean can’t really believe they’re having this conversation. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

Sam laughs. “Oh come on, Dean.”

Dean sighs. He feels like he’s going to regret this later. But it doesn’t sound like Sam’s interested in cock-blocking him. In fact, it’s the complete opposite. Which is kind of gross. “Fuck. Fine,” he says reluctantly.

“Awesome. See you then,” Sam says, finally deciding it’s time to leave. The bus is going to come any minute. 

“Sure. See you next week,” Dean calls out after his brother. He watches Sam give a wave and walk to the bus station. He touches his head to the steering wheel lightly. 

What the hell did he get himself into?


End file.
